The SheWolf and The Bull
by Ch6lsea
Summary: A one-shot Gendry POV


**Welp here you go, i'm still in fucking shock that I would even KIND OF UPLOAD THIS. But whatever. This fic takes place during Chapter 29 of Arya's POV in A Storm of Swords. I'm actually going to begin it right where I see it beginning from GRRM's own words. (As in the first part you read in italics is from the actual book and written by GRRM) SO HERE FUCKING GOES.**

**First Fic. EVER.**

**By the by : They are in a Brothel called The Peach, and Arya is sitting by herself when an older man comes up and basically propositions her. Drunk!Gendry to the rescue! **

"_She's my sister." Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. "Leave her be."_

_The man turned, spoiling for a quarrel, but when he saw Gendry's size he thought better of it. "Your sister, is she? What kind f brother are you? I'd never bring no sister of mine to the Peach, That I wouldn't." He got up from the bench and moved off muttering, in search of a new friend._

"_Why did you say that?" Arya hopped to her feet. "You're not my brother."_

"_That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high."_

_Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I meant it."_

"_Yes it is." he sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. "Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe i'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her."_

"_But…"_

"_I said, go away. M'lady"_

_Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her. _

_**End GRRM**_

_**Begin Gendry POV**_

Gendry glared after her as she went. Watching her boyish figure bound up the stairs, probably to their room. He didn't care that she was angry with him, he was angry with her. And he had every right to be. Didn't he?

He sat the cup of wine down and put his head in his hands. He had drank too much, he wasn't as used to it as he thought he would be. And she probably knew it, knew he was drunk. And that infuriated him. A lot of things she did lately infuriated him. And he didn't quite understand it. Raking his hands through his hair he picked the cup back up and devoured the rest of the wine. It was sweet tasting and nearly made him gag.

_Infuriating little girl-boy_. He thought to himself as he wiped his arm across his wet lips. _Why did she even bother to speak to me anymore. She is some highborn daughter of a wolf and i'm nothing but a bastard. She probably ignored her own bastard brother. _He grinded his teeth. The more he thought of her and bastards the angrier he became. It was the wine. But he didn't care.

Gendry looked up to see the whores of the brothel all set upon their prey. That's what they seemed like to him; Predators. He squinted to keep his vision steady, and noticed the black-haired one that had offered him the night earlier. She was sitting at the edge of a long wooden table, one leg on the armrest of a chair occupied by Lem. Her gaze caught him before he could look away. She smiled and his stomach rolled. Predators. And he was no prey. He was many things, a bit daft, a tad large for his age, strong, but not prey. Gendry scowled at her. The one who thought he was some easy little boy to lure away to some dank, dark room. Arya…Arry never looked at him that way. He shook his head. _That's because she's too young to understand that yet, you dumb lout_. The Bull hated his thoughts and their altar to her.

Drunk or not, she was highborn and he was a bastard, and he didn't understand what he was thinking. Why was he even arguing with himself? Frustrated he began to stand, he wanted to go outside and clear his head with some fresh air. But he stopped when he felt slender fingers on his neck. He looked up, a bit too quickly, for his vision spun. _Arya,_ he thought, but when it came together again he saw the black-haired girl. She was looking down at him, biting her lip seductively. He wanted to retch. Even the feel of her hand sent fire to his stomach rather than his loins. Her brow furrowed and she straddled him, pulling up her skirt just enough to show off her slender legs, much more full than the weasels…than Arya's. He blinked back his drunken thoughts, putting his hands on the girl's waste more so to steady him than to touch her. She was closer to him than he wanted, and he could smell the beer on her, as well as Lem.

"What's the matter, boy?" She cooed. "You seem troubled."

Gendry winced at the word and bit his tongue. Now was not the time to test his patience. The wench would know if she had half a brain in her. He let his head fall back so he could see her fully. She was beautiful. It's true. And he hated himself for even noticing. She shifted on him, making sure to rub herself against him. Again, the fire went to his stomach, rather than where she would like.

"Wolf got your tongue, boy?" She licked her lips, and leaned in to brush them against his neck. Gendry let his eyes roll back in his head, her smell was too strong, and he was too drunk to care. She would get nothing from him anyhow. _Nothing _he repeated in his head over and over again_, just like me. _He let his hands rest on her sides and just sat there. The girl's brow furrowed. She wasn't getting the reaction she wanted. She whispered in his ear "You don't like me? Am I not your type?" Her hand found it's way to the ties of his pants "I can make you like me."

Gendry grabbed her hand and held it between them, sitting up straight. "I don't really _want_ to like you, you smell of old men and regret" he dropped her hand "And I am not attracted to neither" The disgust welling up inside of him was sobering.

The girl gawked at him. Her mouth turning into a thin line. "What, you into things like that little highborn bitch that was with you earlier, you like 'em young, boy? I s'pose you do being a little man yourself." she hissed. At the mention of Arya, Gendry shoved the girl off of him, a tad too hard. Her black hair seeming like a raven as it flew about her mid air. But she was used to it and when she stood up she merely brushed her self off and chuckled. Now, it was his turn to gawk. The girl strode forward and leaned down swiftly and took a deep breath. Mocking him. "I may smell of old men and regret, but you smell of a bastard with an ache for something above him." And with that she walked back over to where Lem sat.

Gendry knocked the cup that had held his wine earlier off the bench in a fit of rage. He stood up abruptly and headed for the stairs. He didn't want to be down here any longer. He didn't want to be near the sounds of giggling and songs, not in this mood. He was fully The Bull in this mood. Driven by anger and confusion. He made his way up the stairs albeit not gracefully, knocking against the wall ever so often. At the top he found his way to the room that he shared with Lem and Arya. And Arya…he opened the door, quietly. She was probably asleep by now. His drunken eyes fixed on the shape in the middle of the bed, too large to be a pillow, but too small to be a woman.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, reigning in his emotions. He was angry and the only thing he wanted to do was walk over there and shake her awake. Make her stay up with him. He didn't want her to have a moment of peace, gods only know he didn't. Not even in his sleep. He was haunted by dreams of a golden-haired woman he didn't know. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. _Damn you, Arry…damn your existence. _His head hurt. His body hurt. He stepped into the room and closed the door, leaning on it. Trying to breathe. Why did he feel like crying. He hadn't felt like this for years. Why did her being make him want to cry. He laughed at himself silently, _I'm a drunken fool s'all_.

Against his better judgment he made his way over to the bed and sat on the left side of it. Slowly, so as not to wake her. Gods she was small, and her hair a dark lavish brown. He stared at her pitifully. Lost. "I was better off, before I met you" he heard himself whisper out loud "I was ok with being a dumb, hollow, vessel. I was ok with just being the blacksmith's apprentice, the faceless boy." He was still drunk, the adrenaline from the anger he had had for the wench was leaving him, and he could feel the disorientation seeping back in. He wanted to cry. He wanted to just lay down beside her and scoop her up in his arms and cry. And he wanted her to tell him it was alright. He needed it. And he didn't understand it.

"I'm just…i'm just a bastard." He put his hand on his forehead trying to remember what he wanted to say, was he apologizing to her? Was he telling himself this? "Just a bastard boy…"

Arya stirred and Gendry lifted himself from the bed slowly thinking that the removal of his presence would insure her sleep. He waited for a while, watching her, she was turned towards him now, her hands together as if she were saying a prayer. He knew she would pray to the old gods, that was the Stark way. And she was a Stark. She was a wolf. His brow furrowed. No…no she was a cub. To him at least. And by the old and new gods he would protect her. Even if she didn't want it. There was a difference between want and need. He knew it well.

He slowly crawled onto the bed next to her. Lying on his back he watched her as she slept. The anger before was starting to calm, he cursed her for having that effect on him. Even asleep. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to think through the days events. The worst of it had been that black-haired wench. Her and her smell, and her smirk, and her lies. The implication that he thought of Arya like…he slowly opened his eyes, a sickening feeling in his stomach was coming again. _No..no _no, he repeated,_i'm drunk s'all…i'm drunk and confused and..and what? _

"…_but you smell of a bastard with an ache for something above him" _

His head reeled. She hadn't meant that literally. He could be daft sometimes but he should've caught that quickly. He turned to look at Arya again. Studying her face, her beautiful skin, the way her lips curved, the length of her eyelashes…his eyes lingered down her figure before he stopped himself. _Oh gods Gendry what are you thinking? _He had _thought_ his favor for her came from his feeling of brotherly love. He had _thought_ his want to be around her and aid her and comfort her was strictly from his need of family. He had _thought_…and he had been lying to himself. Tears welled up in his eyes. And he couldn't stop it. He swallowed back the need to scream. _I am not worth her, she is a highborn lady, gods be damned! _If only his blacksmith master could see him now, he would've whipped some sense into Gendry. He was about to sit up and return downstairs, to sleep in one of the corners with the rest of the drunks when he felt a hand touch his side. He looked down quickly to see an arm draped over his torso. He felt lightening prick his very being. It was Arya, she had moved closer to him and he hadn't even noticed. She was curled up beside him now, her arm flung over him. And he was utterly terrified.

He fought the urge to throw her arm off and do the same to himself out the window. He looked down at her again, she was deep in sleep. Breathing evenly. _The little weasel_ he thought _not a care at all that she's doing this to me_. After a moment he sighed heavily. He was stuck. And he didn't really mind it. And he was frustrated with himself, but he didn't _really_ care. Slowly he turned towards her on the bed, allowing her to cuddle closer to him. _I'm doing this because she would lose the feeling in her arm if she slept that way _he told himself.

_And god's know she'll want to hit me in the morning when she wakes up like this. _Gendry smiled faintly and wrapped her up in his arms. This wasn't wrong. This was very right. He breathed in the smell of her, grass and trees. She's nature incarnate and he's the forge and fire. The Wolf and The Bull, the bastard boy and his highborn lady. _No…_he thought _we're just Arya and Gendry_.


End file.
